Opposites
by Paradocs
Summary: Done for a prompt on Livejournal. Ten one-shots, themed around Opposites, about love. Tendershipping. Rated T for language and other such things.
1. Simple

**Paradocs: **I recently joined a 'fic writing community on LiveJournal. Participants choose a character pairing, or just a character or series, and a set of ten prompts, which must be linked to love in some way, and write.  
I chose the "Opposites" prompt, Bakura, and Ryou, and, well, I wrote this.  
The other nine will come in time. But I WILL finish this. And the other stories and chapters I owe y'all. _

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bakura, Ryou, or Yu-Gi-Oh!. Those are all property of Kazuki Takahashi, that talented man. I do, however, own this exact piece of writing.

**Title**: "Symbiosis"  
**Prompt: Simple  
****Rating**: PG  
**Warnings**: Shounen-ai [mild Slash], a small amount of swearing.**  
****Summary:** On the outside, it was simple enough. Anyone could name the relationship between the spirit and the boy. But they weren't correct. Not entirely, at least.

* * *

On the outside, it was simple enough.  
Bakura needed Ryou in order to exist in this world; Ryou needed Bakura to ease the ever-present feeling of loneliness. It was symbiosis of a sort, albeit a one-sided symbiosis on Bakura's part.  
Ryou's loneliness could have been easily erased if he had friends, and it wasn't as if the boy was unpopular at school. Hell, half of the girls in his class attempted to ask him out every day; the other half were too shy to even contemplate such a bold action. But Ryou always turned them down with that quiet smile, always saying that he was sorry, and then mumbling some half-assed reason as to _why _he wouldn't date the poor girl, who would burst into tears later in the day. And every time, Ryou would sigh, turn back to his studies, and become lost in his own thoughts, silently miserable for having made someone cry. But he just could not bring himself to answer those requests with a "yes". The word was a short one, easily said, but Ryou just could not date them, and it wasn't just because he didn't find himself attracted to them, like most of the other boys in his class.  
And yet, despite all of this, Ryou always felt alone, though, to be truthful, he never really was.  
You see, Bakura was his God. He had answered Ryou's prayer to always have friends to play with. He kept Ryou company, too, always talking to him through the mental link they shared. The spirit of the Millennium Ring rarely did anything to hurt his host, either, and even referred to him respectfully as his _yadonushi, _his landlord_._  
But Bakura was a jealous God, a cruel God.  
His answer had been a cruel twisting of Ryou's request, turning the boy's friends into figurines for his Monster World game or cards in his Duel Monsters deck, sending the bodies into a coma while their souls were trapped in plastic and paperboard for all eternity. He would seize control of Ryou's body whenever he felt the whim, and he would use the body for whatever he wanted, even going so far as to inflict grievous wounds on it, if that was what it took to achieve his goals. Even his respect was mocking, acting as though Ryou were in charge when, in fact, he rarely was.  
But Ryou would ignore this cruelty. He forgave Bakura for what he did to his friends, and would pick up the cards and toys with care, as though a single bent corner or bump of the plastic would destroy the souls inside. He would smile quietly whenever Bakura kept control of the body after sustaining an injury, glad that the spirit would not allow his own actions to hurt his host. And, most of all, Ryou grew to love being called "landlord", knowing that it was Bakura's way of granting him some control, some sense of ownership of the situation, if in name alone.  
Still, the feelings of loneliness persisted. Day in and day out, he would sit at his desk at school, silently listening to the teachers' lectures or doing his homework. At lunch, he ate the food he'd packed for himself that morning alone, occasionally forced to join Yuugi and his friends at their table in order to keep them from worrying about him, from worrying that the spirit who shared his body was forcing him away from the "goodness" of friendship. And, if there was one thing Ryou hated, it was having people worry over him.  
When Ryou went home, he was less lonely, though. He lived by himself, true, in an apartment complex near the eastern side of Domino City, and his apartment was, more often than not, almost entirely silent.  
But it was during this part of his day when he could be with Bakura, when the spirit would appear in a nearly-transparent body that nearly mirrored Ryou's own, though the features were sharper, the hair a bit more wild, and the frame leaner, taller by a few inches.  
Often, Bakura would lecture Ryou for some reason. He had been too quiet, too miserable-looking, he was weak, he was pathetic, foolish. The words were cruel, cutting, and should have hurt Ryou.  
They never did, though. And Bakura knew that, too. The lectures were a routine, something that had to be done each and every evening to maintain the facade of a dominating relationship, where Ryou was hurt and miserable, Bakura was in charge, cruel and dominating, and there were no feelings between them, no mutual need or care for the other.  
But after the lectures, the harsh words and icy phrases, then came the part Ryou liked best, when Bakura would just sit next to him and watch whatever Ryou was doing with silent interest. Then there would be no words, only silence, occasionally broken by Bakura asking a question, usually trying to figure out what Ryou was trying to do in his homework, or what he was making for dinner, or what he was watching on the television. And every time, Ryou would answer him, a short, simple answer that would seemingly satisfy Bakura's curiousity, and the spirit would nod, as if that was that, and the pair would fall silent again.  
And yet, it was this silence, this pattern that they'd fallen into, that made Ryou happiest.  
In science class, Ryou learned that two organisms would often form a relationship based on mutual need. One was the parasite, the one who fed off of the other. The other, the host, simply provided for the parasite, gave what the other wanted and, in return, received some sort of payment. For rhinocerouses, a species of bird would feed on the insects that lived on the large mammals' backs, and, in doing so, the bird was given an easy, readily-available food source, while the rhinocerous would be relieved of those tiny insects that had so frequently plagued it.  
It was symbiosis.  
For Ryou and Bakura, though, it was not quite that relationship. It was more complicated.  
They were both the parasite.  
And they were both the host.  
Because Bakura needed Ryou.  
And Ryou needed Bakura just as much.  
It was simple.  
It was symbiosis.  
It was love.


	2. Perhaps

**Paradocs: **Two down, eight to go. I'm about to start Winter Holidays, which means I might get a couple of these done in the next month.  
ALSO I HAVE LOST MY DRAFTS OF "Mirrors" AND "Birth of a King". SO THOSE ARE DELAYED. D8

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bakura, Ryou, or Yu-Gi-Oh!. Those are all property of Kazuki Takahashi, that talented man. I do, however, own this exact piece of writing.

**Title**: "Perhaps"  
**Prompt**: Complicated  
**Rating**: PG  
**Summary:** It should have been simple. But things change. Perhaps I was wrong in my treatment of my host. Perhaps.  
**Notes:** GRARGH. Finals week is CRUEL.

* * *

It should have been simple.

Ryou was my host, my "landlord". I needed him for a single purpose, and that was to exist in this world. I had no emotional attachment to the boy, and he had no reason to like me. If anything, he should have hated me, feared me. I was the one who had destroyed his life, after all. I had granted his silly, childish wish to always have friends to play with, yes, but I had twisted the meaning of his words, and had stolen the souls of the friends he'd made and placed them in the figurines he used to play Monster World, the role-playing game he loved so very much.

And I considered that as the payment of my "rent", the price I had to pay for cohabitation within this body of his. That silly, frail, feminine body, tall and slender, with long white hair that was almost permanently mussed, and brown eyes that were large and soft, childlike with their innocence.

I hated that body, and I hated _him_. Everything about Ryou was _wrong_. A boy should not appear to be so frail, so girlish. How could he be seen as slender, rather than wiry, or thin, even? His hair could have been more masculine, if only he had worn it the right way, in spikes, or a rattail, anything but down around his shoulders, like a little schoolgirl. He wore clothes that covered every portion of that body, too, clothes that were just baggy enough to shroud his form, but tight enough that they didn't make him seem rebellious. He spoke quietly, with such politeness that, over the phone, I'm certain that he sounded like a girl to the person on the other end. He certainly didn't have the rough sound of the other boys, and he never used the slang that they did, either, the harsh words and curses that were so popular these days.

I hated Ryou, and yet...

I did not truly hate him. Not really. How could I hate someone who was the entire reason behind my existence? I would have to be mad to do something like that. If anything, I suppose I cared for Ryou. Cared for him, because no one else did. His father was always gone on some archaeological dig or another, his sister and mother had died in a traffic incident, and he was teased at school for his looks. Coupled with his shyness, it was no wonder the boy had no friends; it certainly didn't help that I was turning what few friends he made into plastic figurines. And, I'll admit, I always regretted doing that. Only on rare occasions, such as when I would place his tormentors' souls in the toys, did I feel like I was doing the right thing, as if I was doing my host a service, truly paying my "rent". But even then, whenever such a thing happened, Ryou would transfer schools, move yet again to a new town, a new school, a new place where nobody knew of his curse and he could begin anew, and the cycle would begin again, until, eventually, he would have to move once more.

So why did I do it, then? Why did I ruin those hard-earned friendships and force Ryou to move if I cared about him, if doing such things made me feel bad?

I suppose it was jealousy. Yes, I was jealous of those friends my host had made. And the reasons behind that jealousy seemed so petty, so ridiculously childlike that I would not dare to admit it to him, or to anyone. To do so would be the equivalent of apologizing for years of mistreatment at my hands, for neglecting his emotions for the sake of my own personal satisfaction.

And I couldn't do that. Even if I felt truly repentant for all that I'd done, for everything I'd put my host through, I could not bring myself to apologize to him. Not openly. I simply couldn't bring myself to sincerely say those words to him. "I'm sorry." Two short, simple words. Three little syllables, tossed about so carelessly by humans every single day, and yet I was unable to force them out of my mouth, despite wishing that I could do just the opposite.

But the question still remains: why was I jealous of my host's friends? I was stronger than they were, certainly. Smarter, more powerful, better-looking by far, gifted with shadow magic beyond their comprehension. But they had something I didn't.

They made Ryou laugh. My host enjoyed their company far more than he enjoyed mine. He looked forward to seeing them every single day. His friends made him happy, because it made him feel that someone cared for him, that someone wanted him around. It gave his existence a sort of purpose.

I wanted to make Ryou happy. Why didn't he enjoy my company? Shouldn't he at least look forward to seeing me? I was always with him, after all. I kept him company long after those friends of his had gone home, gone back to their whole families and simple lives. I cared for Ryou all of those nights, those long, miserable nights, when he would cry in his sleep for his mother and sister, when he'd shiver and thrash and scream in fear at some horrible nightmare he was having. Every one of those times, I was there. I would comfort him, petting his hair and wiping away his tears as I cooed to him reassuringly; I would hold him down to the bed, delving into his mind and sorting out the dreams that so plagued his sleep. I gave him dreams that he could sleep through easily. And I did it all without his knowing, without asking for his thanks. His existence had a purpose without those friends, anyway.

Ryou existed for me.

At first, it was simple. Without Ryou, without his body, I could not exist. It was vital that I kept that body in good condition, not so much for his sake as for mine. His mind and feelings were inconsequential; I did not need to trouble myself with comforting him, or even with befriending him.

But, well...

It's more complicated than that, I suppose. Because, as time has gone by, I've changed in my attitude toward my host. You humans would call this change "love", this change that has brought me from using Ryou for my own ends, never giving his emotions a thought, to comforting and caring for his well-being more than my own personal gratification.

I do not know what to call it, this change. But, if it is love, then perhaps it is as magical as you humans make it out to be. Perhaps it can make Ryou forgive me.

And, perhaps, it can make me apologize to him.

Perhaps.


End file.
